


middle of the end of the world

by twelvefeetdeeper



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, BAMF TommyInnit, Background Relationships, Dadza, Family Dynamics, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good father phil but kinda absent dad, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Reunions, Sibling Bonding, Sleepy boi, Zombie Apocalypse, suspected character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelvefeetdeeper/pseuds/twelvefeetdeeper
Summary: Zombie Apocalypse AUIt's been four years since the world turned to shit and the first corpse made its way upside again. In that time Tommy's grown from that knobby-kneed, wide-eyed kid he used to be into someone with the will to make it through the hellscape that life has turned to. He's done things and become a person he's not exactly proud of- but that's okay because it's not like his family would be there to see it, right?Wrong. His family's alive. And they don't know what to make of the person he's turned into.(Basically, an apocalypse au where Tommy got separated from his family for four years and then reuintes with them. The Sleepy Boi's are all in a refugee camp with the Dream SMP people and Tommy's with the Business Bay)
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Time Deo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Everyone, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 129
Kudos: 930





	1. learning to outlive your friends

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue starts with Wilburs POV to establish some backstory. Also, the ages are messed with a bit but just don't think too hard about it. 
> 
> Walker= Zombies

Settled around the campfire theses a strange sort of peace lingering about. Normally they skip the fire to make sure Walkers don’t find the camp but they’re getting deeper into winter and shooting Walkers is easier than losing a finger to frostbite. It’s odd for the mood to be this jovial and light, usually they’d be hunkered down with Punz and Sapnap on watch, but the soft crackling of the embers and the way the younger kids are pretending to roast smores makes this feel less like a survivor settlement and more like a summer camp. 

Wilbur knows this is a moment to be cherished- to be remembered forever because tomorrow things could go to shit again. People could die or get hurt and he’s used to it- hell everyone is. It's been four years since the Walkers rose but it feels like an eternity. 

Rhythmically he rubs at his nails as he stares into the flames, watching as they flutter and twist. It's hard to remember the _ before-  _ the good times- because nowadays there's so much shit that it's difficult to see past it. But he's lucky, he supposes, because he got to keep most of his family. Techno’s just a few feet to his left having what looks to be the most one-sided conversation with Quackity that Wilbur has ever seen- but there's an edge to his smirk that means he's definitely enjoying Quackity’s not so subtle terror. Behind Techno sits Phil who's deep in discussion with Sam and Dream. And he's so lucky to have his brother and dad but he feels greedy for wishing for more. 

Tommy. He should be here, shoved into Will's side because the kid hated the cold and laughing with the other kids his age. But Tommy will never get that- will never get to experience  _ life  _ or the family they'd created. He’d been raised in an empty house on stories of a father away at work and a mother dead the day he'd been born. Phil hadn't even returned until a year after the end of the world, and Tommy had never got to see it. But Will had done his best to help in their father’s absence and he was proud- so incredibly proud of how far Tommy had come. It felt like there was this empty space at the camp, this open wound left by Tommy’s absence- which was strange considering the kid had never met any of the people here. 

There was a buzz in his ears and the normally comforting weight of his jacket felt suffocating. His nails dug into palms. Dimly he recognized that he was having a panic attack but then again every day seemed to start with a panic attack so what was the use? Why- Why- Why-.

“Wilbur?” Tubbo's voice breaks through the fog clouding his mind and Will turns to face him. The boy looks nervous for some reason- actually, quite a few people are looking at him worriedly. 

Will coughs into his jacket sleeve, his throat having gone thick with emotion, “Yeah, Tubbo?” His voice is so strangely emotional that it catches the attention of a few more people. Across the fire, he makes eye contact with a slightly alarmed Techno before Will looks away. 

The red hues of the fire make Techno look slightly demonic, especially with the Walker head hanging on his necklace. The sword- yes sword, because Techno’s a fuckin nerd who has that as his weapon of choice- glints from where it kneels next to him. There’s a wicked-looking scar that covers his cheek and nose, but the threatening look of it is diluted by the soft frown the man sports. With the dying light and the aesthetic of it all, Wilbur can almost see the warrior that Tommy once held such hero worship for. 

Next to Tubbo, Karl murmurs nervously, “You look like your thinkin’ pretty hard there dude.” Now, most of the camp seems to be staring at him. Even Dream’s watching him- and that guy thrives on being emotionally detached from almost everyone and everything- except George of course. 

“I’m fine- really, I’m good.” Wilbur laughs self-deprecatingly, if he’s lucky everyone will move on and Will can go back to thinking about everything he’s lost. Maybe he’ll even allow himself to pathetically clutch the old polaroid he keeps in his jacket pocket tonight, like in one of those Hallmark movies Techno used to secretly watch. He’s pretty sure he can schedule out five minutes or so for a good, soul-cleansing cry before he goes back to his regular stoic persona. He just needs everyone to forget-

A stick cracks in front of him and he glances up to see Techno hovering over him. At Will’s pointed eyebrow raise the pink-haired man gingerly perches on the log next to him. They sit in silence for a second while everyone nearby tries to look busy, but Will can see them staring when they think he’s not looking. 

Will knows he should speak first just to get it over with, but it would feel so unfair to start complaining now that he’s missing one person when everybody around him lost  _ everyone.  _ So he sits and waits for Techno to make the first move. 

Finally, his brother mumbles a bit before awkwardly shoulder bumping him, “You’re staring pretty deeply into that fire for someone who says they’re ‘okay’- and I know you’re just enough of a theatre kid to consider dramatic staring an outlet for your emotions but I’m here if you wanna talk to something that’s not a literal pile of burning branches.” 

That flat delivery and the way Techno was so clearly trying to hold back from calling him a nerd gets a laugh out of Will. It’s relaxing to just sit and talk with his brother because nowadays Will is always busy planning and Technos usually beating the shit out of zombies.

“I’m fine- really, I’m good. I just- I’ve been thinking about Tommy.” Wilbur rushes with the last bit, grimacing as he sees Techno shift uncomfortably. They’d had a weird family relationship- Tommy was only their half brother after all, and he was born an entire 10 years after Will and 7 after Techno. Add on to the fact that his mom died during birth and Phil had started leaving for longer work trips after that- well it was bound to strain any relationships they’d formed. So Techno found bonding with the youngest difficult because he was the reason Phil left and Tommy was always jealous that Techno was the favorite, which left Will to mediate them both. At least until college, because Techno left both Tommy and Will behind without a backward glance. 

Plus, they didn’t tend to talk about him around the group. There wasn’t a rule against bringing up your family- Sapnap and Tubbo did all the time- but it just felt weird with Tommy because Techno was indifferent toward the kid and Phil wasn’t around much with him. Will though, he loved his brother. And it was hard to ignore the fact that if he’d lived he would’ve been right around Tubbo’s age or the fact he and Quackity had the same humor. It was impossible to look at the world and not notice the holes he should’ve been filling. 

If Techno had looked uncomfortable before, he looks practically in pain right about now. “C’mon Will, it’s been four years. You gotta- you gotta just let dead things lie.”

Everyone looks beyond intrigued, but they know better than to ask personal questions here. More often than not knowing what happened to someone is worse than not knowing. 

Leaning forward Will grabs a stick from the fire, gently blows it so the end is barely smoking, and then aimlessly begins drawing circles in the dirt. He sorts through all the things he wants to say about Tommy- the way he’d always sit on their stone path to watch the bees by the flowers, his love of the color red, the fact he carried around a stuffed cow named Henry for the first six years of his life- there was just so much to Tommy that it seems impossible to sum up in just a few short paragraphs. Finally, he starts with a simple-

“Tommy is- was. Was our younger brother.” The sadness in his voice is palpable and he sees the way Techno’s lips turn to a frown. He wants to leave it there, but he can tell he’s caught everyone’s attention even more. They’d never mentioned anything about a third brother so the kid was a mystery. 

“Was?” Sam questions gently. 

He’s moved on from distracted sketches in the dirt to methodically stripping the wood from the stick, “Mhmm.” He hums, “He’d be just a little younger than Tubbo. Actually- we uh, we don’t know if he’s dead. When they evacuated the town they didn’t reach the schools in time so when the military came in and started shooting….” 

He trails off because he doesn’t  _ have _ to say how it ends. It was pretty much a universal scenario- you either make it out of town or you get shot. It was part of some stupid government plan to eliminate the more at-risk people to give the people contributing to society a better shot. There’s no way Tommy could’ve avoided execution against trained soldiers. 

Suddenly a hand lands on his shoulder and he glances up to see Karl, “Maybe he got out. You never know, kid could be out there.” 

Will chuckles, which surprises everyone given their confusion, “This was four years ago,” He explains, “ A twelve-year-old against machine rifles? No question who’d win. Plus, even if he miraculously survived that, he’d never make it. Tommy couldn’t make it through the opening of Up without crying, how’d you think he’d fair against fucking zombies?” 

He shivers as Techno leans away from him, probably lost in thought too. It was strange to think back to the day the world seemed to end. It had just been Will and Tommy that morning- Phil was gone and Techno was at college- so Will packed Tommy’s lunch and sent him off to school with promises of a movie night when got home. But Tommy wouldn’t be back home. 

The groups went quiet again. 

Will lurches from his seat, “Sorry for bringing down the mood. You all would’ve liked him.” He lets those words hang in the air before he turns on his heel and leaves them. He can hear worried murmuring behind him but he ignores it.

He unzips his tent and falls into his sleeping bag with an oomph. He stays in his jeans and jacket- the denim pants protect him from the bites and the jacket just because it’s cold as fuck. Shakily he reaches into the pocket right over his heart and pulls out a small, square photograph. 

It’s aged and the edges are torn, but the actual picture is almost perfect. Sprawled on the couch a college-aged Wilbur lounges with a guitar on his lap. One hand loosely rests on the strings mid strum, but his other hand is ruffling Tommy’s hair. His brothers wedged right next to him, close enough that the guitar is half on his lap. The kids clutching onto a stuffed animal as he grins up at his brother, who’s smiling right back at him. This picture was taken years ago and as Wilbur traces the edges of the photo he can’t help but miss his brother. 

Tommy was too good for this world back then, and he’s sure as hell too good for the hell life is now. His sweet, baby brother- who sobbed when Techno killed a moth and cried the time Wilbur carved his pumpkin because he thought it died- couldn’t have made it. It was impossible that he’d survived. And- if he did- then Wilbur couldn’t imagine the kid at sixteen. Old enough to drive, old enough for high school, older than Wilbur ever got to see him. 

His brother was too good for this world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact at this exact moment Tommy was with Deo lighting Walkers on fire and smashing them to death was a bat. Wilbur is very wrong about what the Apocalypse has done to his brother- hint it made him a badass. :)


	2. alone at the edge of a universe humming a tune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy kicks some zombie ass. Meets some people. Things go horrible wrong. 
> 
> Ft. maybe medical inaccuracies. 
> 
> WARNING FOR SOME VIOLENCE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning is a flashback because I wrote the scene and then decided I wanted Tommy to be more chill with violence. 
> 
> Also its almost midnight so this is unedited :)

((((((THIS IS A FLASHBACK TO THE FIRST YEAR OF THE APOCALYPSE. TOMMY IS 12. DEO IS 16))))))

Before the end of the world, Tommy had never touched a bat in his life- or swung it before- but now he liked to think he was probably above average. After all, they say experience is the perfect teacher and he’d spent most of the last year swinging it around like his life depended on it- which it did. 

Over and over again he slammed it into the Walker’s face and tried to ignore the gory splatters that flung onto him. He wasn't sure if it was dead- or, well, technically it was already dead. Second death? Permadeath? Whatever. Tommy barely had enough brainpower to stop himself from gagging at the ick, let alone ponder the specifics of actual fucking zombies. 

He let the sound of bones crunching and organs squelching drown out his thoughts. Vaguely he was aware that the Walker wasn't moving, but he found stopping somehow impossible. 

All he could focus on was the singular glazed eye staring up at him- the other lost somewhere in the caved-in remains of skull and gore. Blood oozed all around, soaking into his shoes and dying the tip of the bat a light reddish-pink. Every thud moved the body slightly farther away from him- and with one last thundering hit the Walkers head split entirely, one side sliding a few feet away while the other was smashed so thin it was almost indistinguishable from the layer of blood around it. 

Surprised by the damage he had caused the grip Tommy had on the bat loosened slightly which sent it flying out of his hands. As he let go the splintered wood dug into his palms, scratching and digging in so that the skin tore and bled. For a moment all he could do was stand there- heaving for breath as the adrenaline left him and the horror set in. 

A year in and he still wasn’t used to the violence he could do. 

He was covered in blood. It stained the white of his shirt red, the cuffs of his jeans hung heavy with it, and dimly he realized it had gotten under his nails. 

Sometimes he felt he would never be able to get clean of it.

A hand lands on his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts and sending him stumbling back, straight into the chest of the mystery person behind him. For a moment he thinks they’ve gotten him- that any moment the Walker will unhinge its jaw and a killing bite will be delivered to his vulnerable throat. Then- 

“Tommy?” 

_ Deo.  _

In a move so unlike himself, Tommy turns around and melts into Deo’s arms. Deo, ever the amazing person he is, just adjust to better hold the 12-year-old in his arms. It’s as awkward as any hug between two teenage boys is- and even more so given the fact the two of them are severely lacking in the comforting touch department. They both suck it up, though, and let the warmth of each other’s arms calm their shaking hands. 

His face finds its way in between Deo’s chin and shoulder and he rests his forehead there for just a minute before he pulls back. He tries to ignore the concerned look the sixteen-year-old shoots but it’s as if it’s highlighted in his peripheral as he turns to retrieve his bat. Tucking it under his arm he makes a halfhearted attempt at tugging the bandana off his forearm where it’s tied over an already scabbed over wound, but he struggles to make use of his bleeding hand. 

Thankfully Deo’s thrown off whatever funk he’s in- he makes his way over to Tommy, chuckling under his breath. He ignores Tommy’s half-hearted glare- he hates the way the other’s baby him because he’s the youngest- and tugs the cloth down Tommy’s forearm until he can wrap it securely over the wounds. 

He gives Tommy one more glance over- probably because of the younger’s tendency to hide injuries- but in Tommy’s defense sitting around the camp to heal was boring and at the time he hadn’t known his ankle was actually twisted. 

Deo lets go of his hand after he finishes wrapping it and Tommy lets it fall limply to his side. He waits as Deo walks ahead, picking his way around the dozen or so Walker bodies that litter the clearing. Ahead of him stands Wisp- who’s busy failing at fixing his overall buckles- the outfit was a bit unconventional but then again they all had their quirks.

It was expected that after a year of this shit they’d behave kinda strange- Tommy was only twelve but even he knew that this hellscape was probably bad for the teenage brain. 

Before all of this he felt sick at the sight of blood and could barely play violent video games- now however, it was just an everyday nuisance that he’d learned to deal with. 

It scared him how much he’d changed. Wilbur would’ve been disappointed.

But he had to survive, even if he had to kill the person he used to be to do it. 

* * *

  
  


(THIS IS A FLASHFOWARD TO THE SAME YEAR AS THE LAST CHAPTER. TIME AFTER IT UNDETERMINED.)

An elbow jab to the gut jolts him out of thought and quickly Tommy tries to blink away the remnants of his daydream. He had no business to be bringing up shit from three years ago- thinking of the past only gets you killed. They've been lying in wait for hours and now Tommy may have ruined all their hard work. Fuck, he thinks, fuck fuck fuck. He reaches for his gun but Deo stops his motions.

“Up ahead.” Deo whispers, pointing through the trees at what Tommy thinks is a group of three people. They're so far ahead that it’s hard to be sure but Tommy’s pretty confident in his assessment. 

They’ve done this before- him, Wisp, and Deo. They scour the woods for whatever unlucky travelers they can find and then scam them. It wasn’t an ethical business, but he’d held out on giving into Deo’s ideas for as long as he could. They’d been barely sliding by with the supplies they got on their own, but by doing this they’d increased their stocks drastically. 

Next to him Deo’s checking his gun- making sure it was loaded and ready for fire- while Wisp was cleaning the remains of old walkers off his arrows. Tommy, on the other hand, didn't bother with cleaning his knives or axe- instead he rubbed his eyes until they were red and tearing up. After thinking for a moment or two he grabbed some dirt and stained his shirt and pants with it. In his haste to prepare he missed the once over Deo gave him and was startled by the hand that reached over to fluff up his hair. 

With his wiry body shape and general long limbedness he’d often been told that he looked deceptively like a baby deer- all innocence and feigned helplessness. The effect was only amplified by the roughness he’d painted onto himself and the way his messy hair made his eyes look larger. 

He looked like an easy target, he looked weak, he looked like  _ bait.  _

Tommy gave himself a moment to prepare, a last chance to glance over the targets who were still making their way incrementally closer. There were three, all men, and all looking to be several years older than himself. 

The first bounded through the underbrush in a way reminiscent a dog would, though the rifle he rested on his shoulder offset the casual way he ventured. With every sway of his head the white bandana he wore fluttered through the air behind him. 

Behind, at a slower pace, walked the other two. Slightly in front strolled the douche of the group- seriously who still wore fucking sunglasses. They were big obnoxious circles with lenses dark enough that Tommy couldn't see through them which made it difficult to tell where he was looking. Hopefully, his attitude matched his confident swagger and the guy was too full of himself to be on guard- but the guy behind him certainly made up for the carefreeness of the goggle guy. 

Swathed in a lime green hoodie, his mouth covered by the stupidest fucking smiley mask Tommy had ever seen, the only thing visible of the man was his hardset eyes. Periodically he peered through the underbrush as he followed his companion. He drew closer and fell further behind in increments, usually trying to get close enough that he could use his axe to lift branches out of the way for Goggles. 

He was sweet on him, Tommy realized. He’d have to use that later. 

As the men drew closer the sounds of their conversation became clearer, especially with the obnoxious whistling of Bandana. 

Goggles was complaining, from what Tommy could make out. Something about a ‘Bad’ and ‘Sam’ sending them out for supplies that they didn't need. Smiley just nodded and hummed to fill the few silences between the other’s sentences. Bandana just interjected occasionally with the odd vulgar word and higher-pitched ‘language’. 

They were an odd bunch. 

Behind him, Deo and Wisp melted into the forest and presumably made their way around the group. It was a move they’d done many times- and it hadn’t failed them yet. 

Tommy took a deep breath, let it settle. He rubbed his eyes once more. And then, finally, he stumbled in front of the group. Artfully he tripped to the ground, rolling in a way that looked painful but actually just let him lay in a position with access to the knife in his boots. He let out a good, fake sniffle and, just for artistic purposes, a fake groan of pain. 

Smiley drew his weapon instantly, and Tommy found himself nose to nose with the blade of his axe. Bandana circled behind him and crouched low, legs open in a squat so he could poke Tommy’s back with the barrel of his gun. Goggles stood back, arms crossed. 

“C’mon, Dreamy.” Bandana laughed, “You don't have to take the kid's nose off- he’s not armed you can lower the axe.” 

After a moment of consideration, Smiley- Dream- let the blade waver and then lower slightly so it was resting on his sternum instead of in front of his face. Tommy tried to swallow down his irritation at being, once again, underestimated. 

Slowly Tommy shifted his gaze from the piercing green of the eyes in front of him to glance at Goggles, but the sudden weight on his chest and small hurt made him quickly glance away. 

“Don’t look at him, look at me.” The man's voice was low and hard with an edge that promised violence in return for disobedience. Oddly enough, it reminded him of a certain pink-haired older brother who used to treat Tommy with the same tone daily. It was almost ingrained into him to react accordingly. 

It pained him a little that this response felt partially natural but he dropped his gaze to the dirt, a reaction of fake cowardice and real instinct. 

Strangely Goggles started walking forward, abandoning his mafia mob-esque pose and mirrored Bandana as he crouched on the other side. 

Ignoring Dreams snap of, “George”, the man grabbed onto Tommy's chin and tilted it up so he was forced to look him in the face. It made him nervous to be staring into eyes he couldn't see, but the guy looked softer than his other companions, which meant he was the best suited for the next part of the plan.

Wary of the weapons surrounding him, Tommy rolled forward, grasping the hand holding his chin and using it to bring George with him. The man hissed a little as he landed hard on his back, all the air rushing from his lungs, and Tommy used that time to scramble for his pocket knife. 

Flicking it open with practiced ease, he held it to George's throat, letting it press to it for a second until just a few drops of blood dripped. 

He didn't have to glance up to see that there were weapons being pointed at him. He just had to trust that his backup was in place. 

There was silence for a moment or two, the only noise being the rasping of George beneath him, struggling to breathe without cutting himself on the knife. 

And then, “You really don’t want to do this kid.” Bandana spoke, one finger hovering over his trigger. 

Something was wrong. 

Where were Deo and Wisp?

He had to stall, he had to give his friends the benefit of the doubt. He had to hope they hadn’t left him. 

“Oh yeah?” He asked, trying to keep his voice steady despite his rising worry. This had never happened before, they’d never gone this off track. He was just supposed to surprise groups and take a hostage so that Wisp could negotiate with Deo as backup. He wasn’t- this wasn’t-

A voice cut into his thoughts, but it wasn't coming from the three with him. Instead, a fourth man came from his right. He was also wearing green, but the hood he had up was golden and his green and black mask was hanging off his belt. 

“If you're worried about the other two men with you,” This voice was kind, but there was a tinge of regret to it, “Then I’m sorry to inform you that they’re not coming.” 

He tries to speak, to ask questions, but his voice fails him. Then it seems his breathing does too. He’s panicking, it seems. His vision starts to narrow in, and then he takes a deep breath and moves again. 

Shifting from where he crouched on the man's legs, Tommy moves up just barely enough to twist the man beneath him, moving him up as a shield, with the knife still at his throat. He lets it dig into the pale skin a little more, the open threat hangs in the air. 

The newcomer gives a soft sigh of disappointment, which is barely loud enough for Tommy to hear. He nods his head, but Tommy doesn't let himself worry about the meaning. 

“If they're dead, then I  _ will _ slit his throat.” It's a dirty, ugly threat but it's honest. 

Bandana just chuckles and readjusts the gun he’s holding.

He wouldn't shoot him, right? He’s just a kid, after all. They wouldn-

The sound of the shot echoes through the clearing. For a second, Tommy thinks he missed, can almost imagine that he felt the air rushing next to him as if it had gone over his shoulder. But the warmth spreading across his abdomen says otherwise. It's sticky and hot. He’s dizzy and it's not until he notices the trees swaying that he realizes he’s fallen over. Slumped, it's all he can do to try to force open heavy eyelids. It's a struggle, but he’s got them almost half-open. 

There's a ringing in his ears. It's filling the clearing so much he’s surprised that he can scarcely make out a voice screaming about children and guns. Then, there's a hand on his face and his vision swims as it turns his head to the side. Softly, the person's thumb slides across his face. Finally, his eyes settle and he makes out Deo above him. Eyes wide with fear and mouth moving silently, (It’s okay, Tommy. It’s okay, Tommy. Over and over again.) He tries to ask Deo what's wrong but his mouth fills with cotton and refuses to move. 

There's a hand in his hair. His face is wet. Why was Tommy crying? Why was Deo crying? 

It's okay, Deo, he wants to say but he’s just so tired. He’s just gonna take a nap. And then he can apologize for worrying Deo so much. Right?

It’s right then when the ringing suddenly clears and all at once he can hear all the screaming. The clearing seems to have filled with people, and they're all yelling at once. 

George and Dream are screaming at Bandana. Someone’s yelling at Deo to drop his weapon. Eight different people are arguing but Tommy can't tell any of them apart. 

And then-

Over all of them, he hears Wisp scream out, “Tommy!” 

Everyone falls silent. 

Again, more quietly, he hears someone new, “Tommy?”

His head turns limply toward the familiar voice. 

  
  


Curly hair, red beanie, yellow jacket. 

  
  
  


I know him, Tommy thinks. He’s too tired to figure it out. He wants to sleep. 

  
  
  


His eyes slide shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was Sam who came in for a split second. Also, the ending surprised me too, honestly didn't expect to write that but I felt like it I guess.


End file.
